


The Ride Of Your Life!

by KayOsmondsFireweedFoundation



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Crack Fic, I'm Sorry, Other, but not sorry enough not to inflict this on you all, i have quite the potty mouth, rated t for excessive use of bad language, snufkin chair, this entire fic is an extended shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayOsmondsFireweedFoundation/pseuds/KayOsmondsFireweedFoundation
Summary: “Oh, Snufkin-Chair,” you say out loud, entirely for the purpose of exposition and plot advancement, “how I wish you were arealchair-man instead of a meagre facsimile.”You start when, all of a sudden, strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and a deep, sonorous bass-baritone voice rumbles in your ear.“For you, my love, I can be.”





	The Ride Of Your Life!

**Author's Note:**

> Based almost entirely on [this post](https://www.instagram.com/p/BxhqkifIeEC/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) by woolclothes and [this post](https://www.instagram.com/p/BxiH8hSJVLq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) by atropineapple

You’ve had a long hard day at the offices of Nonspecific-But-Relatable Incorporated, and now you’re on your way back to enjoy some well-deserved ‘me-time’. Some people might think it odd that your interpretation of ‘me-time’ involves reading old Moomin comics whilst wearing a sultry evening gown, but to those people I say that cringe culture is dead and that in this house we don’t judge, Susan.

You stroll through the doors of the enormous library you somehow own as a millennial/gen zed almost certainly working an unpaid internship and cast your eyes down to the end of the room. To your utter delight, you see your most prized possession. It doesn’t matter how many times you see him; the sight of his soulless staring eyes and his backwards feet will always fill your heart with joy.

It is, of course, your beloved Snufkin-Chair. You’ve been in love with him ever since you first laid eyes on him back at that children’s library in Helsinki. How you managed to steal him and get him back to your inexplicably spacious domicile is a fascinating story which I will almost certainly never tell.

Your heart starts to patter as you get out of your work clothes and shimmy into your favourite Moomin-reading dress (light pink satin with a sultry low cut, but not in a slutty way you pervs ew lol haha). You pick out the volume where you know Snufkin and Moomin do the most gay shit, and then turn to park your bum ceremoniously into Snufkin-Chair’s waiting lap.

“Oh, Snufkin-Chair,” you say out loud, entirely for the purpose of exposition and plot advancement, “how I wish you were a _real_ chair-man instead of a meagre facsimile.”

You start when, all of a sudden, strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and a deep, sonorous bass-baritone voice rumbles in your ear.

“For you, my love, I can be.”

“Nani?!?!” You cry out like the fuckin weeb you are.

Turning, you can you that see that your beloved Snufkin-Chair has, indeed, become a real… something.

He’s wearing his trademark hat with flowers around it (yellow daisies, _Coreopsis verticillate_ , ‘Moonbeam’ variety, if you’re not mistaken), made from the dark green velvet that is woven by the spider monks out in the middle of the Aegean Archipelago, and lovingly stitched by a master craftsman, who’s name shall be known only by those who have drunk of the tears of the phoenix, at the top of the spire in the church off the end of the Riviera.

Also his bottom half is a backwards centaur now.

He smells of furniture polish, bad memes, and something else which is just _indescribably_ Snufkin-Chair. You stare into his mocha-hazelnut-chocolatte-brown eyes, your own (insert eye colour here) eyes wide with amazement.

“Oh Snufkin-Chair-Senpai! Is that really you??”

“Yes, my love,” replies Snufkin-Chair-Senpai (for it is he).

“Sugoi desu!! But how??”

“I heard your call and so I answered, my love.”

“But then why didn’t you reveal yourself before now?” Oh, if only you’d know that of all the cursed Snufkin-Chairs in the world, the one containing the soul of the for-real real-life Snufkin was harboured right here in your very own improbably large _bibliothèque_ , you would have tried to summon him forth sooner! You wouldn’t have wasted all that time _reading_ , that’s for certain.

“To be honest this is a pretty flimsy plot point, but I suspect that’s the least of our problems. But! The hour grows late, and we must away!”

“What?”

“It means we’re wrapping this horror show up.”

“Oh.”

Reaching into an inside pocket of his poncho-coat-dress-thing, Snufkin-Chair pulls out a small box which houses a cartoonishly large diamond ring.

“Y/N, my love,” he declares, “will you make me the happiest Snufkin-Chair in all the land and let me support you, both physically and emotionally, in holy matrimony?”

“Oh, Snufkin-Chair!” you cry with delight and slip the ring onto your finger. “Of course I will! Ugu!!”

Snufkin-Chair knows he doesn’t need to say anything else. He places a tender kiss on your (your hair colour here) hair before tightening his arms around you.

“Yahoo!” you yell as he launches forward, crashing through the conveniently placed French windows (causing untold amounts of obscenely expensive damage) and canters across the lawn; your sultry-but-not-slutty evening gown billows in the evening breeze, making the pair of you look like the perfect image of couple on the cover of an old-style romance novel ( _Ha! See! That was leading somewhere!_ ) which would definitely be the fan-art used as a cover image for this novella on Wattpad if I had enough fans to get fan art.

“Where are we going, Snufkin-Chair-Senpai?” you ask, turning in the throne provided by your husband’s centaur-back to look up at your new life partner.

“I’m not sure,” chuckled Snufkin-Chair as you galloped into the sunset, “but wherever we’re going, it’s going to be the ride of your life!”

( _*pulls lever*_ WE GOT ONE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN  
**DING DING DING DING DING** )

**Author's Note:**

> Complaints/death threats/marriage proposals should be addressed to:  
> [ poetry/writing tumblr](https://kay-osmonds-fireweed-foundation.tumblr.com/)  
> [poetry instagram](https://www.instagram.com/fireweedfoundation/)


End file.
